Chapter 24
The event started with darkness today. The sound of all those high-powered lights switching off made those of us in the warm-up area pause.
Then, the announcer started talking about the tragedy this weekend.
That was fine, but when he began to talk about bull riders showing respect in their own way, and how the fans would see that tonight?
Yeah, I had a real bad feeling about this.
"Shit," Jake breathed beside me, clearly thinking the same thing. "Get your gear and meet me up at the chutes. I need to make sure our boys are all on the same page for this."
I nodded, wondering what page that was supposed to be. From what I could hear, it sounded like they were trying to make our strike look like some sort of a memorial. How the fuck we were supposed to turn that around?
But I knew how this was going, so I grabbed my helmet, glove, and tape.
I had no intention of using it, but if I needed to get on a bull, I'd rather have it beside me than back here and wish I'd carried it.
While I was doing that, the announcer shifted to talking about our safety team - and he was playing them up good.
When I made my way toward the chutes, I wasn't the only one headed that way. A blue glow made it clear the big screens were playing something, but most of the lights were still off. I couldn't even see the score board.
Then the announcer said, "And Pastor Marks from Hills Church will give tonight's sermon."
My feet stopped where I was and I bowed my head.
Around me, the other guys did the same. Tonight, the prayer was for Casey's memory, the recovery of his family, and the health of all the riders and staff of the Pbr.
The pastor talked about how we were challenging ourselves to prove our worth to God, and how we should all be lifted up to Him.
When he was finally done, I whispered a soft, "Amen," like everyone else, and started walking again. I made it two whole steps.
"What the fuck are y'all doing tonight?"
The hiss of Austin's breath on the back of my neck made me tense and spin. "I didn't think we were being subtle," I shot back. "The bigger question is why you're not with us."
"Fuck some stupid strike," he said, stepping right into my face.
But I refused to back down. "I thought he was your friend."
"He was. He also knew that riding bulls isn't supposed to be easy." Austin looked me over and sneered, somehow making it clear that was meant to put me down. "My fucking friend is dead, and all you're worried about is if your boyfriend can work?"
"And all you're worried about is getting an easy win," I shot back. "But this sport isn't supposed to be easy, is it?"
With a snarl, he shoved at my shoulders, forcing me to stagger back a step.
"I told you to get out or you'd regret it.
I made it clear you're not wanted here, and now my friend got distracted and paid for it.
You killed him, Cody. You're the one fucking this up, because before you showed up, we were all doing just fine. "
"You were sitting in the middle of the pack, just like you are now," I reminded him. "Why was that fine back then but not now? Or is it more than you think you deserve to win because you can stand to piss?"
"Should've been you," he grumbled, glancing over.
Which was when I saw Jackson standing a few feet away, glaring. He hadn't stepped in, but he was ready to if things went sideways, and for some reason, I liked that. It felt like...
Like respect.
"Go risk your own life, Austin," I said. "Leave me out of it. I never asked for, nor do I want, any of your attention. Oh, and if you want to beat me, you'll have to ride harder." I scoffed at him. "You know, like a real man."
"Bitch," he grumbled, shoving past me hard enough to slam his shoulder into mine.
I staggered, turning to let him go past, but I wasn't going to whine about it.
Hell, for Austin, that was almost civil.
Then again, I had a feeling the only reason he hadn't tried to grease my rope again was because he knew I wouldn't be using it.
That idiot likely had gallons of the shit in his truck, just in case he ever got another chance.
"You good?" Jackson asked as he moved to my side.
"I fucking hate him," I grumbled.
"Same," he agreed. "Almost makes me feel sorry for Casey. I mean, if that was who he called a friend, I can't imagine what he'd consider an enemy."
I huffed, the sound almost a laugh. "Ok, that's a good point." And together, we started walking again.
"So, sounds like we're going to make it clear this isn't about a memorial," Jackson told me. "Jake says we're all to do the same thing you did yesterday."
"Fist in the air?" I asked.
"And stand on the headgate," he agreed. "Yep. One after the other. If they want to make it sound like some kind of memorial still, we'll correct it with the press. And yep, today we're all going to do our best to talk to them."
And sure enough, when the first bull came out of its chute, the rookie named Sonny stepped proudly onto the headgate and lifted his fist defiantly, holding it the whole time his bull was in the arena. The next guy did the same.
One by one, man after man, they said nothing. These cowboys simply put their rope onto the animal and then stood defiant. The announcer tried his best to make this into something the fans should care about, but we could even hear their boos and jeering back behind the cattle.
When we reached twentieth place, people started leaving. By the time my turn came, the bullfighters weren't even pulling in for the next animal to come out. The bull ropes were piling up on the dirt, looking like sleeping snakes in the sand.
"Tie it to itself and turn him loose," I told the chute attendant.
"Call it," he said.
I did, then like all the men before me, I stood proudly with my fist in the air. This time, there was something different.
"That's my rookie!" J.D. bellowed, his voice echoing in the overly still arena.
Which was when I realized that even the music was calmer tonight. It was more melancholy and sedate than usual. Not enough for anyone to call out, and all the snippets were the sort of music I could only describe as rebellious.
Come to think of it, there were a lot of oldies in there. Sound of Silence was one I'd noticed between groups. Then there was Rage Against the Machine for my bull. Hell, even Cletus's jokes weren't the same slapstick type he typically tossed out.
I waited until my bull made it back into the gate, headed for his pen, and then stepped down.
Almost immediately, Gustavo's bull exploded out of his chute, and he stepped up on the next headgate.
That gave us just enough height, and put us forward enough that each rider was clearly visible to everyone in the stands - but the camera was on the bull, not us.
It was as if the Pbr was doing everything in their power to downplay this. Yeah, well, fuck that. The moment our section was done and refilling, I grabbed my gear and turned, knowing what I needed to do next.
"Where are ya going?" Gustavo asked, trailing behind me.
"Press," I said.
Which made him catch my wrist, pulling me back around to face him as I stopped. "Cody, they're not back here tonight."
"What?!" I gasped.
He just shook his head. "They're out front and in the hallways for the spectators, but they're not being allowed back here tonight."
"By who?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, but I think we all can make a guess."
"Fuck!" I snapped, storming forward again.
The clank of feet on the aisle made me think he was following me, but this time no one tried to stop me. Not until I made it almost to the stairs that led down to the gate where our ropes would come back.
Then, "Cody?" That was Ty's voice.
I turned back to see him paused before the last chute. "What?"
He swallowed hard but didn't come closer. "You ok?"
"The fucking press isn't back here."
"I know."
"So what now, big shot?"
He sighed heavily. "I don't fucking know, ok? The Pbr's trying to downplay this, and I don’t have a clue how to make it hurt." He took one single step closer. "I do know that our ropes won't come back until fifth place." He looked over to the railing, making it clear what he meant.
Austin stood there with his glove already taped on and his rope hanging from his ungloved fingers. The man was clearly ready to ride, and not even trying to hide it. There was just one thing I didn't get. How was Austin in fifth place?
I leaned a bit to look at the scoreboard.
There, I could see the scores totaled up for the entire weekend.
Friday's scores were on the left. Saturday were in the middle, and Sunday beside that.
On the far right was the running total as our scores were all added up for our weekend standing.
It looked like, because he'd ridden, Austin hadn't been penalized like everyone else.
That was just enough to make his buck-off count.
My eyes closed and I pulled in a long breath, wishing I could scream out all this frustration.
"It's fine, Cody," Ty assured me. "Look at third place."
My eyes jumped there, finding Renato's name. Fourth was Jason, the guy who'd been bucked off and injured. He had a score from Friday, which put him slightly higher than Austin, and that felt nice somehow. Fitting, maybe?
"It's ok," Ty said again, moving even closer. "Renato's going to be on the bullpen. He'll get a chance to say something, and he will. We won't let this go unnoticed. So go back there, put on your makeup, and make sure everyone who's still here knows we're not taking this shit laying down, ok?"
"Yeah," I breathed. "Thanks, Ty. Don't ride well, ok?"
Which made a little smile finally touch his lips. "Promise. I'm going to not ride as fucking good as I ever have. We got this. One way or another, we will make sure of it."
Yeah, but I didn't feel quite as confident. Still, he had a point. I needed some makeup. I also needed to text my father and let him know I was ok. He was watching, so he'd know that, but I still wanted to make sure he wasn't worried about me.
I didn't make it very far before Jaxon - the American one - jogged to catch up with me. "Hey," he said.
"No press," I grumbled.
"And while Austin and Eli haven't ridden yet," Jaxon pointed out, "let's not tempt fate, ok? One murder a weekend is one too many."
"It wasn't murder," I told him. "Casey's death was an accident."
He grunted. "Was it, Cody? Now, I'm sure murder is the wrong word, but that accident was negligence. A man died because no one cared if he was in the way. Well, do you really think management gives a shit if something bad happens to you?"
A chill raced down my spine. "No."
He nodded once. "Me either, so let me be a gentleman, ok? Think of it like me sucking up to your boyfriend."
Which made my head snap over. "Huh? Why?"
"Because Tanner always reminds us that one second is a real long time, and if I can get a free second, I'll fucking take it."
Tanner. He meant Tanner, not J.D. Shit, I should've known that, but Jaxon had always been one of J.D.'s lackeys. I'd been so distracted by the lack of press that I'd almost screwed up!
"Right," I muttered as we reached the warm-up area. "I need to call my dad and let him know everything is ok."
"Is it?" Jaxon asked.
"No," I breathed as I opened my bag and dug my phone out of the bottom.
But there, flashing on the screen was a text from Rhaven. I couldn't see all of it, the notification cut off all but the first line. Still, that was enough to make me glance up at Jaxon as I quickly unlocked my screen.
"Maybe," I corrected, tapping to open the whole message.
Rhaven:
Get the bull riders you can together. Instead of doing the awards, I have a network connection who can get us a press conference. JD is with me. Says we'll meet at your stuff when done. The more riders, the better.
"Maybe?" Jaxon asked after a pause because I'd just fallen silent.
But the frustration I'd had a moment ago was gone. This? This would definitely clear up that we were not simply doing some memorial bullshit. This was our chance to say it all as loudly as possible.
"My Deviant Games rep is setting up a press conference," I told him. "Jaxon, I need you to tell everyone. Ty and Renato first, but tell everyone."
"Except Austin, Derek, and Eli," he said with a nod. "Yep, got it." Then he lifted a hand, pointing down at me like he was gesturing to someone else. "Wes! Keep an eye on Cody."
"Uh... sure."
"And tell him about the press conference," Jaxon said before turning and jogging out of the room.
"Press conference?" Wes asked as he sauntered over.
I nodded slowly, my resolve rushing back quickly. "We're all doing a press conference, Wes. The Pbr tried to change the subject, and my Deviant rep just made sure that's not fucking happening."
"Nice," Wes breathed, turning to gesture to the handful of others in the room. "Guys! Press conference after this."
"Instead of awards," I added, flipping back to my texts.
Because I wanted to make sure my father knew he should keep watching. We weren't done yet.